Melusine dashed them away, but they kept on coming. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. It was a habit she had taken from Remenham House, but could not wear because of the colour which must draw attention. ‘You! Have you pen and paper?’ ‘Pen and paper now, is it?’ grumbled the old man as he shuffled down the hall.
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